Pretty much everyone wants the war in Ukraine to end. A conflict unleashed by Russia on its neighbour has resulted in an estimated death toll of over 100,000 on the Ukrainian side and beyond 150,000 on the Russian side. It stands as one of the great tragedies of the modern age, a stark reminder of the long shadow cast by the Soviet Union and its uneasy aftermath.
However, the question of how the war ends, for how long, and on what terms, is crucial. At present, those terms are deeply flawed. The hastily arranged ceasefire proposal, largely a product of Donald Trump’s intervention, is less of a peace settlement and more of a political bargaining chip. It leaves Ukraine dangerously exposed while granting Russia undue leverage. Beyond its implications for Kyiv, it destabilises Europe and emboldens Vladimir Putin, making it more of a pause in hostilities than a long-term resolution. Anyone hoping for a meaningful end to the bloodshed should approach this proposal with extreme caution.
Even acknowledging that Russia and the West are strategic adversaries, the most effective diplomatic agreements between Moscow and Washington have been grounded in pragmatic realism rather than impulsive deal-making. The Yalta Conference at the end of the Second World War, for instance, established a clear post-war order, dividing Germany and placing Poland under Soviet influence. That framework, however contested, provided relative stability in Europe for over four decades.
Having reported on the fall of East Germany and the subsequent transformations in Russia and Ukraine, I have spoken with key figures from both sides of the ideological divide. While the end of the Cold War saw the collapse of the Yalta order, it nonetheless secured peace in Europe, despite events such as the Hungarian Uprising of 1956, the Prague Spring of 1968, and the Cuban Missile Crisis. By contrast, the current deal-making lacks any such strategic depth or foresight. The negotiations in Saudi Arabia and those to come in the following weeks seem unlikely to yield anything as lasting or effective.
It is true that during the Cold War, Soviet-American tensions played out through numerous proxy conflicts. However, a system of mutual understanding and measured responses was developed, allowing for key agreements such as the 1987 INF Treaty, which led to nuclear weapons reductions.
Anatoly Dobrynin, Moscow’s ambassador to Washington for more than two decades, chronicled in his memoirs the intricate dance of diplomacy between the Soviet Union and the West. While relations were often fraught, both sides understood the importance of negotiation and compromise. Even Ronald Reagan, a staunch opponent of communism, saw the value in dialogue. “He was undoubtedly a Communist,” Reagan once said of Dobrynin, “but I couldn’t help liking him as a human being.”
Reagan’s second-term approach to Moscow allowed Mikhail Gorbachev the political space to introduce reforms that ultimately transformed the Soviet Union. However, Reagan was also careful to maintain the support of European allies. Unlike Trump’s current approach, he understood that any US-Russia agreement had to be aligned with the broader security interests of Europe.
Having just returned from the Munich Security Conference, where Trump’s administration abruptly revealed details of its proposed Russia-Ukraine deal—without consulting NATO or Kyiv—it is clear that this agreement is not designed for long-term stability. Instead, it serves Trump’s immediate political interests while undermining Ukraine’s sovereignty and weakening the Western alliance. Bad deals, rushed and ill-conceived, do not hold up. They may project an illusion of power and control, but they ultimately unravel.
During the Cold War, both sides had a clear understanding of each other’s objectives and personnel, enabling more coherent diplomatic engagements. The current deal, however, lacks both strategy and realism. If Ukraine is forced into accepting terms that severely compromise its security, conflict is likely to resume before long, potentially escalating beyond its current theatre. This would not only necessitate a renewed military response from Europe but also further strain US credibility in global affairs.
It is possible that Trump has not yet finalised his position—a point made by his former national security advisor, John Bolton, in an interview this week. There remains a chance that the agreement could be adjusted, perhaps involving arms-for-resources arrangements with Kyiv to satisfy Trump’s transactional instincts. Even Russia might find that what appears to be a favourable deal now may not serve its long-term strategic interests.
Another contentious issue is the proposal for an international monitoring force, an idea recently endorsed by UK Labour leader Keir Starmer. While the intention is to demonstrate solidarity, key questions remain unanswered: Where would these forces be stationed? Under what conditions would they intervene? How would they respond to renewed hostilities? Moreover, suggestions that non-European countries such as Brazil or China could participate in this buffer zone only add further uncertainty.
No peace settlement can be effective without credible security guarantees, especially when the stakes are as high as they are in Ukraine. Trump’s deal, as it stands, offers little more than a temporary reprieve, rather than a foundation for lasting peace. It is, in essence, a classic case of political short-termism masquerading as diplomacy—another entry in the long list of examples of how not to end a war.